And I still have my girl. Yesterday was the first day I stopped giving her meds altogether. That’s about 7 days post initial emergency. He spirit is good, her temperament is back to normal and the lucidity of her mind is natural. She is still mostly careful, so I’m assuming it aches/hurts. When she stretches the front legs now she does it very carefully, and going up a long flight of stairs takes some thinking. I’m glad for that. Her realism is heartening…though I know I have to keep an eye on things because she does get excited and then forgets.
Was talking to my brother last night as my mom worked night and will do so again tonight. I enjoy the nights she’s not here because it gives me some semblance of living on my own, plus working out actually happens. Unfortunately, though, he’s gotten into this annoying habit in the recent months of being a pain to talk to in the sense that he’s become very outspoken and won’t let anyone talk but himself. While his tune has changed from extremely naïve to just being inexperienced in life events, he still hasn’t experienced anything in life. He tries to make up for it by learning concepts, but rarely in life does anything work out ideally. And damn can he talk now! I mean, I’ll take that over what he came from, the depressed, surly sheeple person, but good gravy. Wanting to talk and being over-enthusiastic about joining in conversation is a tiresome mix. Wearying, that’s what it is. Drains you. Add that to wanting to do something but afraid or unwilling to try, and it just turns into this obnoxious and futile conversation playout.
Today is M’s birthday. I sent him a card with a wind-up butterfly that will “fly” out of the card the instant you open it. I put a rather generic yet personal message in it like I would for my sister or brother, and signed it my first name since he never could bring himself to call me the name I wanted him to. He texted me on Wed to say he almost had a heart attack which made me happy to hear that it worked. I can’t help but remember his birthday last year where they invited me to come as a surprise and I was busy working on my vanity at home. I unfollowed him for a little on Facebook the other day because every time he posts anything there it’s, well, painful for me to read. He just seems so much happier and lighter now and it irritates and hurts me at the same time. I guess, being with me weighed him down so much and now without me his life is more enjoyable. I figured that by not seeing the posts I wouldn’t feel so bad, but I realize I still need to know how he’s doing. Maybe one day I’ll be able to see them without feeling anything but neutral like my other friends. I noticed, though, that he stopped posting anything about his car ever since I said it as a jab when we broke up. His friends also didn’t care much for the posts either, but I still hold much contempt for his car. That’s really what pushed me over the edge to break up with him. It might be petty, but I can’t help but resent it. I tried so hard to be happy for him finally getting a car for himself and a car he used to love so much too, plus being able to do things for it like a project to keep him occupied given how much he likes cars, but I still can’t. He posted so many pictures of it, spent so much time cleaning it, making it nice, buying all sorts of things for it, taking care of it…and yet never posted more than one picture of me (that I can remember, and from behind too), and never spent much time other than the very beginning trying to take care of me. No, I can’t be OK with that car. It stood for everything that was wrong with us, and not just because guys love their cars either because I can understand that. Just like having another girl on the side.
I was held hostage in the bathtub today by a million legger. Lots of bugs in the house this year! Going to have to clean and declutter soon, methinks…